


chicken

by socallmedaisy



Category: Fresh Meat (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socallmedaisy/pseuds/socallmedaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oregon is wearing some dead posh twat’s clothes and trying to get off with her, and fucking hell, she needs another cigarette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chicken

“No, but really. Can’t I just—”

Vod shifts a little, reaching for another book. Jane fucking Austen. She tosses it away and tunes back in to what Oregon’s saying, rolling her eyes when she realises she’s still banging on about it.

“—we could just, um.” Oregon’s eyes dart down to her lips and back up. “I mean—”

“Fucking hell, Oregon,” she says eventually, without looking up. She can see Oregon squirm out of the corner of her eye as she throws another copy of Dickens into the discarded pile next to her.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Oregon says, and takes another long pull from the bottle.

+

They’ve got to the point in the wine collection where everything just tastes like vinegar and she tosses another bottle away after she opens it, watching Josie grab it and take a drink, wrinkling her nose at the taste.

“Fucking disgusting, innit?” Vod says, from where she’s got her feet kicked up on the table. She pulls another fag from the packet and puts it between her lips, and then she fumbles through her pockets for a lighter. 

“Light?” Oregon says, suddenly next to her and leaning over her with a grin. “I always wanted to do that. Is this what lesbians do, do you think?”

“Fucking hell,” Vod says, almost falling backwards off her chair. “When did you nick my lighter?”

“You left it in the kitchen,” Oregon says, the flame flickering as she tries to move it closer again. “Light?”

She lets Oregon light it for her, wrapping her hand around Oregon’s wrist just to hold her steady. She can feel Oregon’s pulse jumping under her fingertips, but it’s probably just the Red Bull that kept her awake on the drive down. 

“Yeah, cheers,” Vod says, like it was nothing, taking a long drag and holding out her hand for the lighter. Oregon hands it over reluctantly, her fingers trailing over Vod’s a little longer than they have to, and then she tugs the cigarette out of Vod’s hand and takes a drag before passing it back, making sure to blow the smoke away from Vod’s face. 

There’s lipstick around the filter, but she just ignores it and climbs to her feet, hoping there’s some decent wine left in the cellar. She’s starting to feel like there isn’t enough wine left in the fucking world to deal with this.

+

She’s not a lezzer, all right? That time with Ruth at college had totally been on a dare, and that wasn’t even why she did it anyway. It was just like, what else was there to do? She was bored, whatever.

But Oregon’s not boring. Well she is when she’s shagging bloody Shales and going on about literary magazines, but outside that—when they go out and have a laugh—she’s not boring, so when she keeps checking her phone all afternoon and pulling that ridiculous face— it gets to her. She’s not made of stone.

But it’s still probably JP’s dad’s dodgy fucking wine making her look at Oregon like that, that’s all.

And it has to be what’s making Oregon look back.

+

“You’re actually going to shoot things?” Oregon asks, trailing along after her as she heads for the front door. Or at least where she thinks the front door is. This place is a fucking maze.

“Yeah, I’ve shot a gun before,” she says, and Oregon stops to give her a look like she almost doesn’t believe her. 

“That’s very lesbian of you,” Oregon says after a minute, and the hand with the camera comes up again, like she wants to take a photo of her.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Vod says, she pulls the door open and steps outside, turning back round to see Oregon stuff the camera into her pocket. “See you later.”

“Vod?” Oregon calls after her when she’s taken a few steps.

“Just— be careful,” Oregon says, shifting where she stands. She’s doing that face again, the same one she’s been pulling all day at Twitter. 

“Yeah,” she says, looking down at her feet when she says it, and just turns around and strolls out into what JP insists on calling ‘the grounds.’ 

+

“Why you got pen on your face?” she’s not even asking about the fucking tie.

“Don’t lesbians have sideburns?” Oregon says, after half a second. She rubs her finger against the skin, just underneath where she’s drawn it. “Do you think JP has a pipe?”

“You look like a— a fucking—” 

“Lesbian?” Oregon supplies helpfully, and Vod just rolls her eyes, takes another drag of her cigarette. 

“You look like that bloke out of _Moulin Rouge_. Why’s it all curly?” She reaches up to poke her finger at Oregon’s skin, keeps it there maybe a little longer than she has to before she pulls it away and reaches for the wine bottle again. Oregon glances at her and then looks away.

“I was being stylish?” Oregon asks. She straightens her tie a little, nervously.

“Right,” Vod says, almost managing to keep the sarcasm out of it.

“We should take a photo,” Oregon says suddenly, clutching her camera. 

“Fuck off if it’s going on twitter,” Vod says, because she’s not some fake lesbian prop for her to use whenever she wants, and reaches for the bottle as she stalks out of the room ignoring Oregon calling her name behind her.

+

She goes outside and smokes three cigarettes one after the other, lighting each one off the butt of the one before and staring out into the night.

She’s completely fine, and she’s not thinking about it, and she doesn’t care at all.

+

Oregon is still going on about kissing a girl when she gets back, and god could she could shut up about it for five fucking minutes? And she’s starting to really want to punch JP every time his eyes bug out of his head like some cartoon character whenever they look each other. 

Oregon’s arm is around her shoulders and the camera flashes before she can stop her, and then she’s standing much too close and looking at her, and Vod has to take a step back. She drank too much of that fucking wine because as ridiculous as Oregon looks she can’t stop looking at her, and it takes a minute for it to click and then she realises that the clothes must be JP’s dad’s.

Oregon is wearing some dead posh twat’s clothes and trying to get off with her, and fucking hell, she needs another cigarette.

“You can kiss me if you like,” Josie says, chewing on the straw in her wine bottle.

Oregon looks like all her Christmases have come at once, and she hates it. Not that she cares or anything, but she shouldn’t look that happy about kissing Josie when she never looked that happy about wanting to kiss her.

Oregon looks over at her. “I’m not afraid,” she says and she’s not talking to Josie when she says it. “I just wanna make sure that it’s the right thing to do,” and Vod swallows what she really wants to say and just stares back, wishing JP would shut up.

Oregon’s still looking at her, and then she’s stepping closer to Josie, and she needs another drink or a cigarette or something to occupy her hands. JP won’t shut up and she doesn’t know why she can’t stop looking, and she’s glad when she suddenly figures the perfect way to get them to stop. 

“Just so you know: snogging a girl for an audience of men doesn’t count,” she says, and manages to put just about enough disgust in it to get Oregon to stop and look back at her, her eyes wide. 

If she was gonna kiss Oregon—not that she ever would and not that she ever wants to—she wouldn’t do it so some perve like JP could drool over them. But still, it wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when they disappear into the snug—what the fuck is a snug anyway?—and she, Kingsley and JP stand around listening to the camera flash go off.

She can’t fucking deal with this. 

“Gonna get the stuff for this,” she says, gesturing down at the chickens, and then she leaves without looking where she’s going.

+

Oregon looks so fucking proud of herself when she comes back, just sitting there all smug like the cat that got the cream. Josie’s so drunk she doesn’t care, just sipping at her wine and grinning at the boys like she’s more interested in their reaction. 

Oregon keeps glancing over at her, and she just drops the stuff she’s carrying into the pot and leaves it there, not bothered about actually cooking now.

She wants to laugh when they get JP to kiss Kingsley, but nothing feels that funny anymore so she just keeps chucking things into the pot before she grabs a bottle of wine and leaves them to it.

+

The good thing about JP’s house is that there’s about ten different rooms she could sit in and not have them find her, and she ends up in some room between the kitchen, the pantry and the... well whatever, one of the three rooms off the kitchen. She reaches for her cigarettes again and rattles the last couple around the packet before she fishes one out and lights it, feeling the smoke creep into her lungs. 

She can’t help thinking that if she’d just kissed Oregon in the attic none of this would have happened, and she shifts, kicking her feet against the floor, as the cigarette burns down to the filter. 

Not that she wants to kiss Oregon. Fuck off.

+

JP’s the one who finds her, wobbling in with a spliff between his lips, a bottle dangling from his hand and a gun over his shoulder.

“Mate,” she says, because really that says it all and he just grins and poses like he’s in some posh hunting party.

“Josie and Kinglsey have fucked off somewhere boring,” he says, handing her the bottle. “Come back to the party, Vodster. You’re the only one who can keep up with me.”

She tugs the spliff out of his mouth and takes a drag of it, nods impressed before she hands it back. “Where’s Oregon,” she says, managing to keep her voice steady—there’s no filter in the spliff and it’s harsh against her throat, all right?—and he just looks at her for a moment until she has to look away.

“Let’s go find her,” he says, offering her his hand to help her up. She rolls her eyes and knocks it away, bringing the wine with her when she goes.

+

They split up, and after she kicks through a few doors she finds Oregon sitting at the table in the kitchen staring into the pot Vod put the chickens in like she doesn’t know what to do with it. She looks up when she comes in but doesn’t say anything, and Vod just pulls out the chair next to her and sits down, settling the wine down between them.

The silence stretches and then she says, “Didn’t really know what I was doing with that,” making sure to point at the pot on the table when she says it, and Oregon just looks at her, biting her lip a little.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, me either.”

They look at each other for a long moment, and then Vod nudges the bottle of wine closer to her, and Oregon reaches for it slowly like she thinks Vod might snatch it away.

They drink in silence, and then Oregon pulls the camera out of her pocket and flicks through the photos until she finds the one she wants and sets it down in front of her. She glances at it, confused, as Oregon’s chair scrapes back from the table.

It’s her and Josie, but they’re not kissing, they’re just grinning up at the camera the same way they have on nights out before.

_Oh, fuck_ , she thinks.

“We didn’t—” Oregon says behind her, pausing in the doorway and Vod just looks away and pulls her cigarettes out of her pocket.

“Yeah, all right,” she says, and listens to Oregon’s footsteps retreat down the hall.

\+ 

Later, Oregon leans into her side at the table, and Vod knows she’s drunk from the way she’s laughing at JP trying to pour the wine into his eye, when normally she’d just roll her eyes and tell him to stop being a dick, but it doesn’t stop her from throwing her arm round her shoulders as she offers her the spliff and watches her smoke it.

“When will the food be ready?” JP asks, and she just looks over at him, her mouth hanging open.

“You think we really put those chickens in the oven like that?” she asks after a moment and watches him blink back at her while Oregon laughs next to her. 

So maybe Oregon had been the one to tell her it wasn’t a good idea and she would have just chucked it in and hoped for the best. They make a pretty good team sometimes, as far as cooking goes.

“...yes?” JP says, and she just shakes her head and leans back in her chair. Oregon shifts so she’s still leaning against her and she tries to ignore how warm she feels against her side.

+

JP disappears somewhere and Oregon looks up at her and says, “Why didn’t you want to kiss me?”

“Fucking hell,” Vod says, because it’s not like she even— She’s had too much wine for this.

“Right, sorry,” Oregon says, and then they’re staring at each other again, and everything feels like it’s gone weirdly quiet, like her ears suddenly aren’t working properly.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Maybe you’re the one who’s really a lesbian,” she says, completely calm, and watches Oregon’s mouth open like she wants to say something only no words come out.

“No, that’s not—”

She’s fed up of talking about this, so she just pushes herself forward to find Oregon’s mouth and kisses her, tries to ignore the way Oregon breathes out heavily through her nose like she was waiting for this as the kiss deepens a little and she sucks at her bottom lip.

This doesn’t mean they’re gay or anything, she’s only doing it to get her to shut up, and she definitely doesn’t murmur against Oregon’s lips when her tongue brushes into her mouth and her hand presses against her jaw hesitantly, like she isn’t sure if it’ll make Vod pull away or not.

It’s the wine, and the weed, and the—

It’s _Oregon_ , and her stupid face and the way she asks questions all the time when Vod would rather just ignore things and leave them alone.

She’s the first one to pull back, and Oregon tries to go with her, following like she doesn’t want it to end yet. She’s still got her eyes closed when Vod looks, and after a moment they blink open, soft in the gloom.

“You can put it on twitter now,” Vod says, a bit harsher than she means and Oregon just looks at her, all her feelings showing on her face as she bites at her lip and shifts awkwardly in front of her.

“But I didn’t take a photo,” Oregon says.

“Yeah,” Vod says, and wishes she knew what else to say.


End file.
